


Home Ain't A Shotgun

by lil_macaroon



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Futur Fic, Sibling Bonding, set in NOLA BABY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 21:32:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17926730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_macaroon/pseuds/lil_macaroon
Summary: Hazel thought going back home to New Orleans would help her find some stability, some direction. Nico tagged along because that's what brothers do. And there's never a better time to visit the Big Easy than during a Mardi Pardi.





	Home Ain't A Shotgun

**Author's Note:**

> Wooow I wrote a thing! Written and published in the Riordanverse Zine "More Than Myths". Just a little future fic for two underdeveloped siblings.

It should have been overpowering; the sudden onslaught of colors swirling around her, the cacophony that barraged them mercilessly, and the undeniable stench of alcohol and sweat. To anyone else, it would have been a sensory overload, especially after the darkness and silence of shadow traveling. But Hazel Levesque was not just anyone. And she did not grow up in New Orleans, survive Alaska winters, help win a war against an evil earth Titan and survive almost seven years of Roman legion training to not hold her ground against partying Uptown college students.

Nico, on the other hand, looked like he was going to die from the input. 

Or the shadow traveling. 

But probably from both. 

“You just had to come back during Epiphany, didn’t you?” he asked, trying to catch his breath (or stop himself from an anxiety attack). He’d gotten better at shadow traveling as a form of transportation in recent years, but it still seemed to make him winded for a couple moments upon arrival. It helped that he’d stopped hiding in the shadows and come out to join the living for some sun, food, and exercise. And boyfriends ̶ one could not forget the boyfriends or the troubles they’d brought with them. 

Hazel contemplated letting him stand and be pushed around by giggling drunk sorority girls- and the boys whose shoulders they wanted to sit on - as a punishment for making her listen about one certain boy for hours on end last week, but she really didn’t have the heart for it right now. “Come on, we should probably get off the neutral ground,” she yelled over the mass of cheers as the first floats came into view. For a moment, she thought she saw a familiar face with a crown of ivy and vine leaves, but it quickly disappeared within the crowd.

“The what?” Nico asked as he followed her through the maze of people, over the street, and down the sidewalk until they hit a relatively low-trafficked spot. 

“The neutral ground,” Hazel said again, pointing to the strip of land they’d appeared on.

“The median,” Nico corrected as he looked at where she’d gestured.

“It’s neutral ground in N’awlins. Bless your Yankee heart,” she teased him with an exaggerated Southern accent. “Also, no one calls it Epiphany down here. It’s Mardi Gras, and I didn’t know it was going on this week.” She looked back towards the crowds of people who were waving their arms and calling out excitedly for cheap throws, doubloons, and of course, the Mardi Gras beads. “Besides...we didn’t use to celebrate like this.”

Now that she’d gotten the chance to step aside from all the excitement (chaos) of the parade, Hazel looked around to try and figure out where they were exactly. It took her a moment to orient herself; the last time she’d been in New Orleans was when Nico had brought her back, and she’d gone to visit her family tomb. It had been too much for her, and she’d hadn’t been able to stay for more than a quick hello and goodbye. 

That had been years ago. Mostly because you didn’t really get vacations days when you’re conscripted into an army, but also, she hadn’t wanted to come. New Orleans wasn’t home anymore, hadn’t been for years, and she was afraid that coming here would just bring up bad memories and feelings that had been long buried. 

If it hadn’t been for Nico, she might have not come at all. He said that there were some old Confederate ghosts causing trouble, and he needed her help to get them in line without freaking out the mortals. But she was pretty sure they’d landed as far away from haunting grounds as they could have while still being in New Orleans. Hazel honestly should have expected this. After knowing him all these years, Hazel would like to think she knows her younger brother. Or older brother- honestly, she wasn’t sure with the whole out of time/brought back to life thing the two of them had going on. Either way, Hazel knew Nico was protective of her. She wasn’t sure if he was like that because of Bianca or in spite of. Whatever the reason was, they were now standing in the middle of a party for reasons other than ghosts.

“This is St. Charles,” she finally said to him, waving at the big road in front of them. “Which means that Tulane is that way,” she pointed westward. “Which is where all the college kids came from. But it also means Audubon is that way, and if we were to cross that whole thing and go east from the zoo, we would hit the school.”

Nico, who’d been leaning against the tree catching his breath, pushed off and sighed. “It sounds like a long walk. We better get started.” He started forward, and Hazel did intend to move with him, but her feet didn’t budge. “Or not?”

“It wouldn’t be there,” Hazel said, her voice odd to her own ears as she recalled the building in her mind. “That whole area was hit bad during Katrina, so even if it wasn’t an abandoned building then, it is now. Or it’s a different school or office building. Or they tore it down to make room for a new development or - “she stopped when Nico touched her arm. 

“We can go,” he told her seriously. “I’ll shadow travel us right out of here. Wherever you want.”

“I wanted to come here,” Hazel started. “I really did. I just didn’t know why? I guess to prove to myself that I could, you know? I’ve been sort of afraid of it for a while now, not because of how we left or what happened here, but because it’s different. This city was home for a long time, but it wasn’t always a good place. It was the people that made it good, you know? Sammy, my mom, our neighbors. They made it home. I know it’s stupid because they’ve been gone for a long time but...but I guess, without them, this is just a city. It’s not home anymore.,” She felt Nico’s gentle squeeze. “I’m leaving the legion soon,” she announced, shoulders sagging and tension draining. It was a decision she’d made but hadn’t really even said aloud to herself yet, and Hazel hadn’t realized she’d been carrying it in her body all this time.

“I know.”

“I didn’t know what to do afterward, where to go. New Rome is nice, but…”

“It’s weird that they forcibly conscript children and teenagers into a standing army where they are branded after some guy rips up teddy bears for a sign of the gods’ approval?” Nico offered.

“I was going to say it is a complicated place to stay for a child of Pluto,” Hazel grinned at him. “And I started thinking about where I could go, and well New Orleans was home.”

“I had a fortune cookie once that said, ‘home is where your heart is’ and your heart is with your friends, Haze,” Nico said, avoiding her gaze as he talked. It brought a smile to her face as she watched him struggle for the words.

“And you,” she added, poking him in the arm. “But I’m not going to live with you if you’re just going to complain about your boy troubles all the time.”

“You are the worst sister ever,” he teased her lightly, face brightly colored. “You’re supposed to listen to me complain, it’s your job.” He stepped back and looked both ways down the street. “If we’re done here, can we leave then? I’m hungry, and I do not feel like hanging around college kids.”

“If we head down this way, there might be food. Or at least a good space for us to travel out of here,” Hazel agreed, heading away from the crowds. They walked silently for a bit, jumping over sidewalk cracks and around potholes like two normal young adults. This wasn’t something they got to do a lot, be normal, and even less together. Hazel knew there were many differences between her and Nico, differences that sometimes made them seem worlds apart. But in the moment, those differences didn’t matter because it was just him and her against the horrible streets of New Orleans.

“Oh hey,” Nico said, stopping at the side of the road where a lone Mardi Gras bead necklace lay on the grass. “Wouldn’t want to leave without a souvenir.” He leaned down and picked up the red beads with a finger and held them out for her.

“You shouldn’t do that, you know,” a third voice said suddenly, startling the two of them. 

Hazel’s hand went for the sword that wasn’t around her waist, and she saw Nico’s fingers twitch for the same thing. But they both looked to see a blonde guy standing there. He was in jeans and a button-down, sleeves rolled up to accommodate the heat. He had a couple of beads around his neck, which was the only sign that he’d come from the parade and had not magically appeared beside them. “Picking beads off the ground is bad luck. Wouldn’t want to give your girlfriend bad luck, would you?”

“She’s my sister, and it would be boyfriend,” Nico told the guy, and Hazel grinned proudly at him. The guy’s eyes widened, and he looked suddenly nervous. 

“Oh, well, yeah,” he said, rocking on his feet. “Here,” he said suddenly, pulling off a more elaborate strand from his neck and walking up to Nico. “They’re the special kind the Bacchus Krewe throws so you know it’s exclusive. Don’t let the bacchanals convince you otherwise and into a bad trade.” The guy was a little shorter than Nico and stood on his toes as he leaned up and put the beads around the stone-still boy. 

“Thanks,” Hazel responded for her brother. “You know your Roman trivia,” she complimented, impressed he’d been able to name Bacchus’ followers. Blonde Boy rocked once more, looking slightly embarrassed to have been caught knowing the fact.

“Yeah. I’m sort of really into Greek and Roman history. Classic Lit is my major. Because I’m a student here, at Tulane.” He looked at Nico as if expecting to say where and what he studied too. 

More like he’s hoping, Hazel thought to herself while eyeing Nico. He still hadn’t responded, but he hadn’t run away, so she was calling this a small victory. “You’re from here? That’s great, we’re looking for a place to catch some dinner. Any recommendations? Oh, I’m Hazel, this is Nico.”

“Josh,” the blonde introduced, taking his eyes off of Nico and looking at Hazel. “There’s actually a small mom and pop restaurant like six blocks that way on Feret that’s really good. Probably the best and cheapest jambalaya you’ll get this far Uptown.”

“Oh perfect!” Hazel said, suddenly craving good home cooking. “Thanks for your help!” She took Nico’s hand and started pulling him away. 

“Bye,” Nico blurted out before turning around and leading the way quickly down the streets. Hazel giggled and allowed herself to be dragged for a couple blocks before slowing him down. 

“So that was exciting,” she grinned.

“Exciting is not the word I would use,” Nico mumbled. “Also, I wouldn’t call people at a parade bacchanals. It seemed like it was just rather convenient that this was a Bacchus parade. I’m sure they’d be partying just as hard during a parade for Hera or Jupiter.”

“That’s what you’re going to get out of this interaction?! Nico! You were just complaining the other day– “Hazel started, but Nico cut her off with fake excitement about the food they were going to eat and making plans for where they could live. Hazel watched him finger the beads around his neck and decided not to say anything because she was a good sister.

Maybe there was hope for New Orleans after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I definitely forgot to explain the whole "shutgun" thing, but it's what a type of house in New Orleans is called. As a former Tulanian, I forget that these words aren't typical vocabulary for people.
> 
> NOLA= New Orleans, Louisiana
> 
> The Mardi Gras beads superstition is real y'all. Also, like just don't do it, it's gross. You don't know the life that street has lived.


End file.
